


BlueBastard's Book of Overwatch Fluff

by BlueBastard



Series: BlueBastard's Fandom Collection Works [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, Fighting, Fluff, Poverty, Questionable Technology Talk, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBastard/pseuds/BlueBastard
Summary: A collection of Overwatch one-shots I've written that have been published to Overwatchcannons on Tumblr.So far we have:MercyWidowmaker &SymmetraMcCree





	1. Inspiring (Symmetra/Reader)

You were imperfect. Much like all of humanity, really. Then why did she feel drawn to you? It was infuriating. Perfection inspired Satya, so much so that she strived for it. Yet your obnoxious contradictions had something ** _…something!_** She just couldn’t put her finger on it. You insisted on embracing your flaws, rather than doing something to better yourself. At the same time you managed to thrive within the vishkar corporation, a company that worked towards bettering the world! If you could not change yourself how were you to change the world? Satya didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t you be the best person you could be?

“Because it wouldn’t be _‘me’_ anymore,” you’d said when she asked you. That didn’t make any sense to her. Every human ought to strive for perfection! It was only natural to want balance and order –still you insisted on walking towards the chaos. Why? Satya spent days asking you, recieving no coherent answer. Today she took matters into her own hands.

You were walking the streets of utopaea. She watched you from atop a building, curiously following your movements through the slums. It was dangerous out there at this hour. However, that didn’t stop you. (Why not? did you not fear for your life?) As she observed your actions more closely, Satya learned something new: there was something locked firmly under your arm. It looked familiar. She slid down the side of the building, landing in an alley nearby to get a better look. Glancing round the corner, Satya spotted you heading for the central square. You were carrying a large parcel. The Vishkar Corporation logo was imprinted on the side. She recognized it immediately. Company issued food rations. Your monthly supply to be precise. Just what were you doing? Your house was in the upper class suburbs, on the other side of town. There was no reason for you to be here, other than to be a victim of a robbery.

Food was scarce and people did horrible things when driven into a corner. Again, you blindly walked into chaos! Satya moved closer, ready to jump out and protect you from any who might try and harm you. What she witnessed next stirred something strange within her.

You went into the square. People were waiting for you. Children and adults alike smiled when they saw you appear around the corner and Satya’s heart ached. They knew you. It clicked: she realized what your intentions were. You walked up to one of the elders and handed over the parcel. The people crowded around the box as it was opened and distributed the contents evenly among them. An old man smiled and shook your hand. You noticed a girl shying away from the crowd, too afraid to ask for a piece of bread: Satya had noticed her too. With a whole bread in hand, you knelt down in front of the girl and gently held it out for her. “Is your family hungry?” you asked. The girl nodded, eyeing the bread curiously. You smiled. “Take it. Feed them. You have as much right to this food as the rest of us.” With hesitant hands the girl took the bread, then mumbled a faint ‘thank you’ and hurried home with blushing cheeks.

Slowly but surely, the square ran empty. People returned to their homes a little richer and happier than they were before. It wasn’t much, but it was something –it was a step forward.

“That food was yours.” a voice behind you rang. “You earned it by working for it. They will have to do the same.”

You turned, meeting satya’s stern gaze with an equally cold one. “I’ll manage,” you said, your short tone surprising the woman. It was clear this was a matter close to your heart. Why? You had already saved them! Given them homes! Wasn’t that enough?

Satya sighed, her eyes softening. She knew your intentions were pure, but if the Vishkar Corporation found out you were distributing your rations, they’d have your head! “(Y/n), we are working to build a perfect worl–”

“In a perfect world we’d both have a piece of bread, but right now, they need it more!” you snapped, your voice becoming increasingly brittle with every word; like you were about to cry. It hurt.

Before she knew it, Satya was yelling. She couldn’t help it. Furious, without knowing why. “If Sanjay finds out you’ve been stealing rations to feed these people–! What of your own family? The Vishkar Corporation stands for–!”

“I don’t give a damn about the Vishkar Corporation!”

Satya pauzed, giving you a puzzled look. “Then…why do you work for it?”

You let out a shaky breath, fighting the hollow feeling in your gut. “Because they’re the only ones who are doing _something_ to make a difference. I don’t agree with a lot of things they do, but they offered me a chance –a chance to make things better, for all of us, and not just for the ones who can afford it.”

Satya took a step back, unsure of how to react to your outburst. She was angry at you for disrespecting the company, yet proud of you for caring enough about these people to defy direct orders. You and your contradictions! Your passionate, cold calculation. Your dislike, yet devotion to the Vishkar Corporation. It was all so confusing, it was– _endearing_. That’s it. Your obnoxious contradictions had something endearing. Despite your flaws, you worked harder than anyone else. You cared more, did more. Perfection is abstract. What may be perfect for one individual is not always perfect for another. You understood that. Satya did not, at least not yet. But she tried. Your antics may drive her mad at times, but she came to care for you, flaws and all included. And in the years to come, your kindness would remind her every day that perfection is relative.

 

~*~


	2. Not Now, Not Ever (Mercy/Reader)

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. You never quite believed that until now.

It all happened so fast. One moment, you were back to back with Mercy –kicking Talon ass– and the next you were hurled back into the side of a building. It was instinct. The grenade rolled towards you and all you could think of was how Angela would get caught in the blast. Your vision blurred as you lept forward, shoving your partner out of the way. You took the hit and paid the price. As the dust settled, you became aware of your surroundings and the stinging pain in your lower abdomen. You scooted up against the remnants of the wall behind you, pressing firmly against the bloody patch on your stomach. A hiss escaped you: the wound was deep. Your gaze drifted down hesitantly, skimming over the damage you’d suffered. Aside from the occasional grenade fragments lodged into your arms and chest, a jagged cut spanned the lenght of your stomach. You reached for it and pulled out a large chunk of glass, then immediately put pressure back on the wound. This was bad: you were losing blood, fast! At this rate, you would pass out long before any help would arrive. Your eyes became heavy and your hearing started to fade. It wouldn’t be long now. In the distance, you heard her voice.

“ _(Y/n)! (Y/n) stay with me! Bitte, talk to me!”_

You wanted to comfort her, tell her you’d be okay, but you didn’t have the energy. A hand found its way onto your shoulder and you knew it was her. While your vision was blurry, you would recognize that face anywhere. She found you, like she always did. You smiled. To know that in your last moments the one you cared most about was by your side…that was a blessing. You reached out, letting go of the pain and gently traced your fingertips down the side of her cheek.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die: in a way, that’s true. You didn’t remember taking your first steps, your first kiss or your time at Overwatch. Instead, you smelled her perfume, remembered the shine in her blue eyes and the curve of her smiling lips. You recalled walking into the infirmary for the first time and being swept off your feet by the great Dr. Ziegler. Her dorky laugh that she would try to hide, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating –everything revolved around her. In that moment, you knew: Angela _was_ you life.

Blood stained her pale skin as your hand went limp, falling to your side. You couldn’t move. As much as you wanted to stand up, hold her –kiss her! you couldn’t. “Angela,” you breathed out, attempting to move again. She held you back.

“Don’t move,” she commanded. You listened. “You are going to survive this!” her words were lost on you. Fighting the tired feeling in your gut with all your might, you cursed yourself when you allowed your head to droop. Angela forced you to look up. She wouldn’t let you go, not now, _not ever_. “Didn’t you listen to me? Heroes never die!”

But it was over. You knew it was over the second you jumped in front of that grenade. Angela attempted to soothe your wounds, but to no avail. With the amount of blood you had lost, it was only a matter of time before you’d be done. A single tear rolled down her cheek when she found you were beyond healing at this point.

  
“No, no, no, no, no!” she let out, pulling you closer. Even until the very end, she never let go. Your eyes drifted shut to the sound of her heartbeat. Dying so that she could live wasn’t that bad, though you wished you’d had more time to say, “I love you.”

______________________________________________

Imagine your surprise when your wish was granted.

You awoke to a familiar rhythmic beeping. A wave of white light came over you and when your eyes adjusted, you recognized the Overwatch infirmary. The beeping was your heart monitor, alerting the doctors that you were awake. You were alive, breathing! Memories of your last battle came back to you and your heart started racing. You sat up, careful not to disturb your I.V. and waited. Seconds later, you heard hurried footsteps coming down the hall. The door swung open to reveal _her_. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she was smiling.

“Good morning?” you said, surprised at how hoarse your voice had sounded.

With tears threatening to fall, the good doctor stared in disbelief. Moments passed where not a word was spoken, until she finally broke the silence.

“Gott sei dank!” Angela whispered, rushing to your side. After a brief, strong hug, she slapped you on the shoulder. “Never do that to me again!”  
Before you had the time to defend yourself, you were gripped by the front of your robes and pulled into a kiss. Her lips were soft, but the action itself was needy and harsh –like you both had been waiting a lifetime for this moment. When she parted from you, Angela gently wiped away a stray tear. “I didn’t know if you’d ever come back to me,” she said. “You were in a critical condition for so long I–”

“Stop.“ you raised your hand. “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. You know why?” she shook her head. You straightened your back, then pulled her onto the bed beside you, trapping her in a warm embrace. “ _Helden sterben nicht_.”


	3. Data (Widowmaker/Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written pre-Sombra, and I realize now that our Reader might very well BE Sombra but whatever...

_What a fool._ Talon seemingly made a point to hire complete idiots to guard their company secrets. You were currently hunched behind a desk, rolling your eyes at the second soldier who'd passed your hiding place and didn't even bother to glance behind it. You observed your surroundings and counted the guards present. One, two, three, four –-five patrolling the area, and two more on the balcony above. Down the hall was Talon's central intelligence server. Now, you were by no means a hero, but you had to put bread on the table somehow. Besides, Overwatch would pay a handsome price for the location of Talon's European bases. All you had to do was hack into the system and steal the information. Incidentally, you were a self-proclaimed expert on data mining. You could take your time decoding and weeding out the specific data later, when you were safe. Make a copy, get out. It was that simple.

After the guards had changed position, you dashed out into the open, your feet barely making a sound as you ghosted towards your objective. You crouched near the server room, scanning the hallway. A single agent was posted outside the door. This would be easy. You took a deep breath and charged at him. The agent noticed you a little too late. Before he had the chance to reach for his gun, you strafed behind him, hooking your arm under his chin and pulled. A brief stuggle later, he fell to the ground, unconscious. You took his ID from the clasp on his belt and flashed it by the scanner on the door. It unlocked. After checking the hall once more, you grabbed the guard by the ankles and dragged him into the server room with you. Don't leave trash lying around, kids: clean up after yourselves.

You had to hurry --once they realized no one was guarding the door, it wouldn't take long for them to find out there had been a breach. Rows of computers extended all the way to the back of the room, lining the path towards the central server. You were in, now you just had to find the data port. You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Resistance had been minimal. It was strange, you expected more of a fight from Talon: you basically strolled in here with your eyes closed. No doubt some cameras had picked up on you. Why had no one sounded the alarm? Not that it mattered, you'd be up and out in 5 minutes anyway.

Breaking into the system had been pretty easy: turns out the badge the guard had been carrying saved you a lot of trouble. You managed to by-pass most of the security checks using only the agent's information. Once you passed a certain level, you needed to run your decription software --a nifty little invention of your own making. You plugged in your hard drive and started up the program: it would crack the remaining security systems for you and automatically copy the files you needed. Now all you had to do was wait.

  
6 _% done._

_10% done._

_23% done._

You tapped your finger on the desk impatiently, sighing as you stared at the screen. Just a few more minutes and you could get the hell out of there.

_35% done._

_54% done._

“ _Qu'avons-nous ici?_ [1] You have a lot of nerve,” a thickly-accented voice sounded. You moved to turn, but the muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of your head stopped you. “It takes courage to sneak in here, I admire that, but this is the end of the line, _cherie_.[2]”  
Slowly, you raised your hands and put them behind your head. “You don't have to do this,” you argued. “I surrender.” As calmly as you could manage, you turned to face your attacker and subsequently had your breath taken away. “Oh wow,” you whispered, in total awe of the woman before you. Enthralling blue skin, long dark hair and golden eyes deeper -and more dangerous- than any other. You'd never seen anyone quite like her. She was gorgeous! Even in the eerie glow of the computer room she looked breath-taking. Strange, but enticing. You simply could not look away. Her sharp gaze narrowed when she caught you staring, prompting you to avert your eyes. A stubborn blush crept onto your features, refusing to subside. _Damnit._ Now was not the time to get distracted by a pair of pretty eyes!A pretty face isn't all there is to a person, especially not when that person has you at gunpoint.You glanced at the computer screen.

 _89% done._ Time to take action.

 

The woman prodded the tip of her gun against your head again, releasing a short chuckle. “ _Tu es trop mignon_.[3] You honestly think I would just let yo--?”

Before she could finish her sentence, you kicked the gun from her grasp. It landed on the other side of the room, out of her reach. She retaliated, lunging forward. You stepped back, allowing her to slide past you. The woman stumbled but quickly regained her footing, turning to stagger you with a high kick to the chest. With a swift flick of your wrist, you shot a dagger out from under your coat. It grazed her cheek: a warning shot. She came to a stop, reaching for her injured cheek, somehow surprised that you had managed to land a hit on her.

You grinned. “Sorry, love. As much as I'd like to hang around and chat, my download finished while you were busy threatening me.” Silence followed. “Just let me go and I'll be out of your way.” There was no need for further violence. If she wanted a fight, though, who were you to deny her? It could be fun, after all.

The woman smirked, wiping away the sliver of blood on her face. She glanced at her gun, abandoned on the other side of the room and sighed. You were blocking her path. Now unarmed, she raised her fists in combat stance. “Playtime's over,” she said, starting to circle around you.  
So, a fight it was. “As you wish.” You mirrored her pose, readying yourself for the attack.

You danced around each other, both anticipating the first move. One mistake, and you were done. It was agonizing. A moment passed where you considered grabbing the storage device and bolting for the exit, but it was too late. You had been discovered: if she was here, no doubt other soldiers were on their way. The only way out was through the vents, but you couldn't get to them with her in the room. You had to fight.

She caught you off guard with the first punch: sending you stumbling back into a railing. You were impressed. This woman may not have a lot of muscle, but her agility certainly gave her the advantage. You were fighting in close quarters, having no room to make use of your power and giving her the chance to out-maneuver you. You had to act fast. A well-timed tackle should give you the opportunity to take her out.

You dodged her attacks as best you could, occasionally allowing her to land a hit, hoping it would open her up for a push. Eventually, she made a mistake: a high kick. You dodged it expertly, spinning around low to knock her off her feet. She fell. You saw your chance and took it, throwing yourself at her. A struggle followed. She was fast, but you had the upper hand now. Seconds passed and you had her restrained on the floor. With your knees to her sides, you grabbed her wrists and forced them down, next to her head.

Laboured breathing filled the stuffy silence. The woman looked up at you, bewildered and exhausted. You had her pinned, there was nowhere to run. She glanced at the string of daggers hidden under your coat. You could have used them, but you didn't. Her eyes narrowed. “Go ahead, finish it.”

“Finish it?” you asked between breaths, pauzing to calm your heart. “That's a little definitive. I just want to leave. Are you always this extreme?”

“Are you always this obnoxious?” she shot back.

You chuckled. “Ouch, you got me.”

There it was. A smile. It was lovely. She looked serene when she smiled, like she was at peace for a moment. As quickly as it had come, however, it was gone and her face shifted back into a serious scowl. It was good to know she at least had some sense of humour. You wondered what she was like underneath all that calculated precision. Sure, she was a Talon agent, but that didn't mean she wasn't human. You pauzed. What was she doing here anyway? Compared to all the other Talon agents you had run into, she was in a completely different league. She'd managed to sneak up on you, almost kicked your ass in combat and did not shy away from the possibility of death. In fact, she looked almost ready for it. Ready to kill or be killed. Merciless. Was that why she expected you to kill her? Because she would do the same?

“What's you name?” The question left your lips before you could stop yourself. The woman's eyes widened in surprise. You felt stupid. What were you doing? An army of Talon agents was on their way to this room right now, it was hardly the time for introductions! Not to mention, this woman had tried to kill you! Were you seriously getting a crush on the person who pointed a gun at your face just a minute ago? You sighed, shaking your head. “You know what, nevermi--”

“Amélie Lacroix.”

Well damn. By some feat of miracle, she actually answered. Time to be an ass about it to cover up your true feelings. “ _Gesundheit_ ,” you teased, causing her to roll her eyes.

“You are insufferable.”

“Actually, my name's (Y/n).”

Another brief smile from Amélie. You figured that was well worth wasting a few precious seconds of escape-time for. Little did you know, that time was almost up.

You heard the faint echo of footsteps running this way. Men yelling and dogs barking. They were coming. You looked down at Amélie and noticed a devious glint in her eyes. She had been stalling, of course! Without saying another word, you got up and retrieved your hard drive. Amélie watched as you made your way over to the vent system. She had found her gun and was aiming right for you. You unscrewed the vent, crouching to get in, then noticed something strange; you weren't dead yet. She was aiming, but not shooting. You looked back. Was she letting you go, or was she just playing with you?

As if she'd read your mind, she spoke. “Go, before I change my mind. I'll give you 2 hours head start, then I'm coming after you... _Au revoir,_ (Y/n) _._ [4]”

“I look forward to it, Miss Lacroix,” you said, closing the vent behind you. As you climbed up, you heard familiar gunfire ricoshade off the metal surface below. Against your beter judgement to keep moving, you stopped and listened. The doors were broken down and a small army of men poured into the room. You held your breath.

“Where are they?!” a voice said.

“They escaped, sir. I couldn't stop them.” Amélie responded.  
“Are you saying you missed your shot? You?!” The man let out a cynical laugh. You heard him move closer to the vent, no doubt examining the bullet holes. “I don't believe that. Find them, kill them and retrieve that data. Fail, and I will have your head, Lacroix!”

“Yes, sir.”

___________

The sun rose on the mountains behind you, tinting the tops a gentle orange hue. The icy cold morning air assaulted your lungs, but you didn't care. You got out. Just in time too --the entire place was going on lock-down. You could see the facility in the distance. Vans filled with soldiers scoured the premises in search of you. Amélie hadn't told them of your escape route, it seemed. Surprising, to say the least. You looked down at the hard drive in your hands. The data on this thing was worth millions, even undecoded. You were rich. Too bad it also made you a fugitive. She was coming, and this time you had a feeling she wouldn't miss her shot.

You started walking. If you wanted to reach to other side of the mountain by nightfall, you had to pick up the pace. This was bad. It was supposed to be an easy job, no one was supposed to see you. Now no place was safe. You had to keep moving, find Overwatch and convince them to protect you. Until that time, you had to lay low. You knew of some Junkers to the south who wouldn't mind taking you in, for a price. After that...well, you didn't know. The world was so big and Overwatch was scattered...it could take forever to find them.

Once thing was certain, however: you looked forward to meeting Miss Lacroix again and putting a smile on that face once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] “what have we here?”
> 
> [2] “sweetheart.”
> 
> [3] “you are too cute.”
> 
> [4] “goodbye,” but more like “until we meet again.”


	4. High Maintenance (McCree/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engineer Reader helps McCree with his prosthetic and he realises he has a crush on them. I had a bit of a rough day, so I wrote this to cheer myself up and not much happens but HERE YOU GO.

McCree let out a grave sigh. He was seated at his usual spot in the Overwatch cafeteria, twisting and turning his mechanical wrist with a pained expression on his face. The wiring had been acting up --or something. He was no engineer but McCree knew something wasn't right. Whatever the problem was, it was interfering with his performance as an agent. This morning, during the drills, he'd noticed his dodge roll was a little wonky. A by “a little wonky” McCree meant he'd crashed into several walls and a staircase.

He'd been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes already when you walked in. You approached the table and put down your lunch. At the sound of his name, Jesse looked up and gave you a quick affirmative nod. "(Y/n)..." he muttered, scooting over so you could sit beside him.

"Your arm acting up?" you asked, leaning over to have a better look. Unlike McCree, you were in fact an engineer --a nosy one at that, and a little bit too good at heart. Knowing this, the cowboy backed away, shaking his head.

"It ain't nothin' I can't handle, darlin'." He refused to let you fuss over him: too proud. Besides, he figured it wasn't even that big a deal. After lunch, McCree planned on seeing Torbjörn about it anyway. So, he stood his ground and waved you off with a weak excuse of just being a little tired. However, despite the cowboy's best efforts and the award winning smile on his face, you would not be detered.

"Jesse," you groaned. "Just let me have a look at it. I promise, it won't take long." You reached forward, attempting to take his arm but he moved it out the way. A little annoyed whine escaped you as you attempted to grab the prosthetic again, only to be met with a blocking hand on your shoulder. You slumped back into your seat and crossed your arms over your chest, a slight pout on your face.

Jesse chuckled. You were as stubborn as ever, and while he thought that was kinda cute, McCree couldn't have you worrying about him.

"Now, sweetheart, that won't be neces--!!!" The cowboy was caught off guard when you slammed a screwdriver into his mechanical arm. (When did you pull that out?!) Before he had time to react, you straddled his lap --your back flush to his chest-- pressing his prostethic under your arm to lock it in place. Your fingers made deft work of opening the maintenance panel and deactivating the artificial nervous system. The heat and tingly sensation that made the limb feel real disappeared all at once and his arm flopped onto the table, like nothing but cold dead weight.

"Make and model?" You asked, sliding the magnifying glasses from your forehead over you eyes; the contents of the arm instantly became sharper and you could better differentiate the components now.

"Uh O-Overwatch issued, Digit 2056-L1," the man stammered out, still not used to the strange sensation of losing control over the mechanical limb. He tried moving it; it didn't budge under your grip.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Jesse?" You looked up over the rim of the glasses and stared back at your coworker. "That model is ancient! When was the last time you had a check-up done? What about a software update? Hell, do you even grease up the insides regularly?"

McCree felt a faint heat rise to his cheeks. "Um, a check-up...u-update?" He didn't even know that was a thing he needed to do. The cowboy figured greasing the joints once a year would be sufficient, but seeing the look on your face now made him feel guilty for not taking better care of it.

"No wonder you're having trouble...", you sighed. From your inner pocket, you pulled out a PDA and conjured up the software menu. "Listen Jesse, I'm gonna update your system and close this up, but after lunch you have to go see the grumpy IKEA-knome about a new model, a'ight?"

He nodded and watched you work over your shoulder. While the PDA managed the update, you took your time cleaning out and greasing the inside components. It was surprising how gentle your touch was. You knew he couldn't feel a thing, but McCree got the impression that you were treating the artificial arm with the same care you would one of flesh and blood. The precision you displayed while working was amazing as well, and Jesse found he liked the way your brow creased when you worked on a particularly tricky bundle of tech. You bit your bottom lip and his heart made a little jump.

_Shit._ He looked away. If you didn't stop that adorable nonsense soon, Jesse was sure he'd have a heart attack. McCree could smooth-talk his way into anyone's pants, but here he was, blushing like a school boy because you were biting your lip. It also didn't help that you were literally sitting on his lap in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. Why'd you have to be so darn cute? He scraped his throat and shifted in his seat a tad, careful not to disturb your position too much. After the red on his cheeks had faded, he dared look at you again and watched, utterly mesmerized, as you took him apart and put him back together again.

A good hour later, the update had finished and you were piling the exposed wiring back into the metal housing. Somewhere along the way, his human hand had found its place on your left hip, loosely draping around your waist. By the time you were done, you were absolutely covered in grease from head to toe. McCree had to resist wiping the inky black streak off your right cheek. It was a good thing one of his limbs was immobilized or he probably would have made this situation very awkward.

Warmth began flooding back into McCree's arm as you rebooted the system. Taking it one finger at a time, he managed to start moving it again. "Damn, darlin'," he let out, holding up his tech arm and playing with the digits, testing them. The rolled the joints and snapped his fingers, pleased at the lack of resistance he encountered. The movement was smooth and light, almost like he'd gotten an entirely new prosthetic.

"Well, I'll be damned. Ya did a mighty fine job. Way better than Torb whackin' at it with a hammer...certainly more gentle, if I may be so bold t'say. Thanks, (Y/n)."

"You're welcome," you smiled, shoving your equipment back into the work satchel on your belt. A quick glance at the clock told you lunch time had come and gone while you'd worked on the arm and you sighed. “Crap. Back to work, then.” You stood up, leaving his lap, and gathered your forgotten lunch. “You owe me a warm meal, cowboy.”

McCree rose to his feet and playfully tipped his hat. The better part of him knew he had to nip this crush in the bud before it got out of hand, but McCree decided to just say _'fuck it'_. You were just too darn cute to let slip; a little crazy (with the screwdriver stabbing and all), but cute nonetheless. With all the courage he could muster, the cowboy conjured a dazzling smirk and turned to face you. “Well, then I'd just have to take ya out t'dinner tonight then.”

He almost sank into the floor when you winked at him and gladly accepted his offer. God, you were going to be the death of him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been staring at this fic all day and it's not getting any better, so frickfrackfuckit. It's been a while since I've written anything, so I hope you guys liked this! 
> 
> Love, Blue!


End file.
